


Working for the Weekend

by HeckinaHandbasket



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Anal Sex, Basically it’s what if Steve had to work construction instead of Scoops, Billy Hargrove Being Gross, Billy Hargrove Is Bad at Feelings, Construction Worker AU, Hand Jobs, Hop In This Handbasket We’re Going To Heck, Light BDSM undertones, M/M, Oral Sex, Period-Typical Homophobia, Steve Harrington Has Bad Parents, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, billy is really trying his best, rich bitch Steve learns a lesson
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:15:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27444727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeckinaHandbasket/pseuds/HeckinaHandbasket
Summary: Most of the guys looked about ten to twenty years older than Steve, all broad backs and facial hair.Steve still didn’t really need to shave more than his mustache and a little patch on his chin.One of the bearded guys caught sight of Steve and elbowed the guy next to him with a snicker than sent prickles of anxiety down Steve’s spine.The guy looked up, hammer in his fist, and Steve tripped over nothing because he was—He wasn’t much older than Steve, probably, judging by his unlined skin and sparse little mustache. But he was. Noticeable.Muscled arms hung out of his dirt-streaked white tank top, nearly translucent with sweat where it clung to his hard, defined torso.Sun-bronzed skin with golden curls cut in an ultra-modern mullet, ringlets springing free to cling to the sweat around his deep blue eyes.Deep blue eyes that scanned Steve up and down, catching on his lavender striped polo shirt with a sneer before looking Steve in the eye and spitting loudly onto the ground.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Comments: 152
Kudos: 472





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Another WIP? Really? 
> 
> Yeah. I’ve got a book due fairly soon so I’m writing a bunch of Harringrove to let off steam. Here’s the result!

The glass of the car window was cool against Steve’s forehead despite the summer sun, retaining the chill from his father’s climate controlled garage.

“—and I mean, when he says jump, you say ‘how high?’Are you listening to me, Steven?”

Steve grunted so his dad continued in the same clipped, irritated tone that he had used for every interaction with Steve since graduation.

Since Steve had barely scraped by before failing to even get into tech.

“This will be good for you, finally putting in some honest work.”

As if his dad had ever worked manual labor a day in his life.

“And maybe,” Steve’s head picked up at the change in tone, spine stiffening against the razors edge that cut across the short distance inside his dad’s car, “Maybe when you see what kind of degenerate losers end up doing this kind of work you’ll find the motivation to get off your ass and make next semester’s applications shine.”

What was that expression? Polishing a turd? That’s what Steve would be doing if he tried to make his college applications shine.

But his dad didn’t want to hear that. So Steve said nothing as they pulled up to the construction site, a sprawling subdivision being carved out in between corn fields on the west side of Hawkins.

“I’ll have someone pick you up at five. Do we have an understanding, Steven?”

Nerves churned his stomach as he took in the team of men already working, striding with purpose in their sturdy boots, hauling lumber and wielding tools.

“Steven.”

He nodded, tongue too big in his mouth to speak, the way it always got when his dad was tearing him down.

“Go find Mr. Porter, tell him your James’ son. He’ll tell you what to do from there.”

Steve nodded again, flinching at the high pitched buzz of a power-saw kicking on.

“Get out of the car.”

There was no more delaying it, now. This was Steve’s life, everyday this summer.

At least he had the weekends off.

He pushed the door open, shiny new work boots earning their first scuff when he kicked up against a broken plank of wood.

His dad barely waited for Steve to shut the door of his BMW before taking off, leaving Steve in a literal dust cloud.

Steve would have driven himself, but his dad had revoked his car privileges until he could pay for his own gas, which sucked.

Everything sucked.

He gingerly picked his way through some debris, scanning the men for somebody around his dad’s age.

Most of the guys looked about ten to twenty years older than Steve, all broad backs and facial hair.

Steve still didn’t really need to shave more than his mustache and a little patch on his chin.

One of the bearded guys caught sight of Steve and elbowed the guy next to him with a snicker than sent prickles of anxiety down Steve’s spine.

The guy looked up, hammer in his fist, and Steve tripped over nothing because he was—

He wasn’t much older than Steve, probably, judging by his unlined skin and sparse little mustache. But he was. Noticeable.

Muscled arms hung out of his dirt-streaked white tank top, nearly translucent with sweat where it clung to his hard, defined torso.

Sun-bronzed skin with golden curls cut in an ultra-modern mullet, ringlets springing free to cling to the sweat around his deep blue eyes.

Deep blue eyes that scanned Steve up and down, catching on his lavender striped polo shirt with a sneer before looking Steve in the eye and spitting loudly onto the ground.

Degenerate losers, his dad had said.

“Steven! There you are.”

Steve stumbled beneath the impact of Mr. Porter’s hand thumping him on the back before his dad’s old friend leaned in with a wink.

“Five minutes late, don’t let the boss catch you, or he’ll dock your pay.”

Steve gave a half-hearted chuckle, glancing back at the blonde guy to find his eyes narrowing on the hand on Steve’s back, lips drawn up in a snarl.

Jerking his gaze away, Steve stared out at the work site while Mr. Porter gave him a rundown of his duties.

“Now I promised your dad I’d put you to work, but, just between you and me, I know you’re not one of these grunts. I’ll send you home with enough blisters on your fingers to make your dad happy but I don’t expect you to keep up with these bastards.”

Mr. Porter wore a button down Oxford tucked into pleated khakis with the sleeves rolled up and a hard hat. He stood out from the rest of the crew even more than Steve did.

He removed his hand from Steve’s back to start pointing things out around the site.

“I’ll put you on demo first, it’s pretty hard to mess up tearing down drywall.There’s only two buildings that need to come down so that won’t take too long and then you’ll be on construction.”

The subdivision was being built around a small farm, half destroyed already with the barn looking like some giant creature had come along and taken a bite out of it. The fields had been cleared and leveled in all directions. Spray paint markings with wooden stakes and stringindicated where foundations were going to be poured.

It was beyond intimidating.

“Yes, sir.”

Steve was barely able to squeeze the words out past the lump of anxiety clogging his throat. Mr. Porter didn’t seem to notice.

“Alright, lets get you over to Hop and he’ll get you set up. I’ll only be at the site a couple times a week, so you’ll really be working under my foreman.”

He led Steve over to a huge man old enough to be Steve’s dad, with deep-set eyes overshadowed by a strong, angry brow.

His mouth thinned out into a hard line when Mr. Porter brought Steve over with a conspiratorial little explanation about Steve’s dad trying to teach him a lesson.

Hop didn’t seem interested in being in on the joke.

“What am I supposed to do with him, Carl? Kid looks like he could hardly lift a goddamned hammer.”

Steve held his skinny arms in close to his sides, hands tucked in his pockets as he kicked at the ground, stirring up dirt with the steel toe of his boot.

“I’m sure you’ll figure out something, Hop. See you Friday!”

And then Steve was left looking up at Hop while Mr. Porter cheerfully whistled his way over to his Mercedes and left the site.

Hop rubbed one big hand over his face before glancing down at Steve.

“Jesus. Okay, first of all, you gotta get some work clothes. Can’t show up here looking like you wanna play fucking tennis. These guys are gonna eat you alive, kid.”

Steve nodded, eyes dropping to the sturdy material of Hop’s breakaway snap-front work shirt.

Steve’s mom was out buying him some clothes today, she had argued with his dad about the decision to make Steve work construction all week and had refused to get him anything but boots in the hope that his dad would back down.

That had certainly worked like a charm.

So now Steve stood out like a sore thumb in his polo shirt and Ralph Lauren jeans, leaving Hop with this sour look on his face.

“How old are you, like twelve? Sixteen?”

Just eight more hours and Steve could go home and hide in his room while his dad locked himself in his study and his mom drank her dinner.

“Eighteen, Mr. Hop. Sir.”

Hop looked just a tiny bit less sour at that, nodding thoughtfully while he scanned the crew. Steve jumped when he cupped his hands over his mouth and bellowed across the site.

“Hargrove! Get your mangy ass over here!”

Steve’s heart rate picked up when a golden head turned, tossing down his hammer in visible irritation before he started stalking their way.

Hargrove’s body in motion was like watching a great cat on the move. He planted his feet down hard in a wide-set stride like a cowboy, broad shoulders rolling with the motion.

Steve didn’t blink until he was almost upon them, skin glistening with sweat and gritty with debris, curls darker where they clung to the damp nape of his neck.

“The fuck do you want, Hop? I was making good time over there.”

He barely glanced at Steve, chin jutting up at Hop with his hands curled into fists at his sides.

Hop didn’t seem impressed, hands on his hips while he stood toe to toe with Hargrove.

“What are you, nineteen, right?”

Hargrove bristled like a cat, shoulders inching up and chest puffing.

“I’ll be twenty-one in a month. The fuck does that matter?”

Hop nodded like Hargrove had just said yes.

“Perfect, you’re basically the same age. I need you to look after this kid. Harrington. He’ll be working the site for a while. Doesn’t know a sledgehammer from his elbow.”

Hargrove finally looked at Steve, lip curled with disdain as he took in his tucked shirt and styled hair.

“I don’t have time to play babysitter for some country club princess. I’m here to get shit done, Hop. I’m one of your best guys and you know it.”

Hop had pulled out a clipboard, reading over some checklist with a furrowed brow.

“You’re both on demo, take him upstairs in the main building. Get him a sledgehammer and some goddamned gloves for fuck’s sake.”

And then he just walked away, bellowing at some other workers who dropped what they were doing to follow him, leaving Steve alone with Hargrove.

He stuck out his hand to shake and Hargrove just stared at it like it was a live snake.

“Hi, um, Hargrove, right? I’m Steve.”

Hargrove reached out and snagged Steve’s wrist rather than shaking his hand, turning it over to look at his palm with a scoff. His own palm was rough and warm on Steve’s skin.

“Jesus, gloves is right. Never gotten these soft little hands dirty before, huh, princess?”

Steve jerked his wrist out of Hargrove’s grip, ignoring the kick in his chest at the rough drag of his skin.

“I just said my name is Steve.”

Hargrove was already walking away, stride so strong that Steve had to scramble to keep up.

“No one gives a fuck what your name is, princess. Don’t get in my way and we won’t have a problem.”

He halted abruptly as they rounded the corner into the dark farmhouse, crowding Steve up against the wall until they were nearly nose-to-nose. Steve could feel the humid animal heat of him rolling off in waves as his back hit peeling wallpaper.

Hargrove’s eyes were very blue from this distance, ringed in thick black lashes to rival any pretty girl. Sweet little freckles danced across his nose in sharp contrast with his biting tone.

“We’re not gonna have a problem, are we, princess?”

He was probably an inch or so shorter than Steve but the difference was made up when Steve’s knees weakened at the gruff tone, catching a whimper in his throat before it could escape.

“No. No problem.”

Hargrove stared into his eyes for a few beats before stepping back and fucking licking his lips, giving Steve a once-over where he was plastered against the wall.

Something sharp and satisfied gleamed in his eye and Steve was very afraid that he was going to have to adjust his jeans.

“Good. Now, come the fuck on.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hargrove found an extra pair of work gloves in the house, slapping them against Steve’s chest with a smile full of shark teeth.
> 
> “Here you go, latest fashion. Size petite. Put ’em on.”
> 
> Steve pulled the too-big gloves on, worn suede and thick canvas hot and heavy on his hands, fingers clumsy with the extra material.
> 
> Hargrove yanked his own gloves on before picking up two sledgehammers from where they had been leaning against the wall. Steve tried valiantly not to notice the way his shoulders bunched when he started up the stairs, hammers in hand.
> 
> He also definitely did not notice the pull of tight, worn denim across Hargrove’s firm ass.
> 
> Because noticing something like that, here, could be disastrous. And Steve might be a moron, but he wasn’t an idiot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not me going forward with this AU instead of doing my work.

Hargrove found an extra pair of work gloves in the house, slapping them against Steve’s chest with a smile full of shark teeth.

“Here you go, latest fashion. Size petite. Put ’em on.”

Steve pulled the too-big gloves on, worn suede and thick canvas hot and heavy on his hands, fingers clumsy with the extra material.

Hargrove yanked his own gloves on before picking up two sledgehammers from where they had been leaning against the wall. Steve tried valiantly not to notice the way his shoulders bunched when he started up the stairs, hammers in hand.

He also definitely did not notice the pull of tight, worn denim across Hargrove’s firm ass.

Because noticing something like that, here, could be disastrous. And Steve might be a moron, but he wasn’t an idiot.

Hargrove tossed one hammer onto the floor without a word before walking over to an interior wall marked with a giant spray painted X, considering it thoughtfully before swinging his hammer right through with a crunch.

Steve watched him for a full minute, determinedly not noticing a lot of things about the way his body moved, muscles coiling and releasing with the rhythmic motion, curls bouncing.

“Um, Hargrove?”

Hargrove didn’t pause, grunting as he reached up with one hand to pull down a chunk of drywall and toss it on the pile behind him. Steve’s traitorous dick definitely noticed the grunt.

“What do you want me to do? Hargrove? Hey, I’m talking to you, man!”

Hargrove finally stopped, throwing a chunk of drywall down with a snarl before turning on Steve.

“Stop calling me Hargrove, asswipe. You’re not my fucking boss. I know that must be new for you, standing there in your fucking tiara and a Rolex, but I’m not here to serve you.”

Steve checked his wrist just in case he had forgotten and worn his Rolex to the job, Hargrove’s face tightening at the telling action.

Steve adjusted his gloves, shifting on his feet under Hargrove’s unimpressed glare.

“Yeah, I know. Sorry. I just, thought that was your name?”

Hargrove sighed, tossing sweat-damp ringlets out of his face.

“Name’s Billy. Don’t wear it out.”

Suppressing an eye roll at the line, Steve gestured vaguely at the destruction all around them.

“Okay, Billy. What do you want me to do?”

Billy wiped his forehead off on the back of his arm, flashing a tuft of dark blonde hair that promised a matching trail further down and Steve yanked his head out of the gutter with lightning speed when Billy’s eyes snapped to his.

“You need me to tell you what to do?”

Steve didn’t really have a better answer to that than an automatic nod, eyes widening when Billy stepped closer.

“Gonna do just what I tell you, princess? That how this is gonna work?”

There was something dark and delicious in his eyes, something that made Steve want to fall to his knees in the dust and debris.

He just shrugged, instead.

“Sure. You’re the one who knows what he’s doing, here.”

Billy’s tongue was long and pink, and Steve knew this because he couldn’t keep it in his fucking mouth, sliding it out to lick at his lips and waggle it a little like a fucking tease.

That could be.

A problem.

For Steve.

Shit.

“Go pick up your sledgehammer.”

Billy’s eyes lit up when Steve immediately complied, considering Steve as he stood there awkwardly holding the heavy tool.

Billy pointed at a large patch of drywall still clinging to the frame.

“Knock that out and put it on the pile.”

Steve swung the hammer, the shock of impact jarring his bones as he missed the drywall entirely and hit the solid wood of the frame.

Billy hissed, coming up behind him to adjust his grip on the hammer, hands hot and firm on Steve’s even through the gloves.

“Christ, you’re a disaster. This is gonna be worse than I thought. The wall. Hit the fucking wall. It’s right there in front of you.”

Steve’s face and neck burned with a humiliated flush as he tried again, and then a third time before finally knocking the chunk down.

It was shockingly satisfying.

He looked up with a grin to find Billy watching him, blue eyes going a little wide when he caught Steve’s face, taking half a step back like Steve had pushed him.

“Good. Just, do it like that. Right where I tell you. And stay out of my way or you’ll get yourself hurt.”

It was faint praise but Steve still lit up like a Christmas tree. It had been a long time since anyone had anything positive to say about him, and it sent warmth coursing through his bloodstream like a drug.

Billy looked at Steve’s glowing face with something like fear edging into his eyes, wrenching his gaze away to focus on the wall before tearing into it like a madman with a hammer, grunting and cursing and making all of these deep, growling noises that made Steve have to picture naked nuns to keep from reacting.

Definitely going to be a problem.

They got the wall down, and then another, and then Billy set Steve on getting everything to the dumpster through the chute out the window.

It was stifling in the decrepit farmhouse, air hot and stale, stagnant and sweltering.

Steve dropped his armful of debris down the chute before bending over with his hands on his knees, panting in the heat.

“Water.”

His head jerked up at the sound of Billy’s voice, he wasn’t looking at Steve, peering up at a drooping spot on the ceiling.

“Huh?”

Billy finally looked at him, brows lowered.

“Go get your water, dumbass. It’s like a hundred degrees in here and you’re clearly not used to hard work.”

Steve shook his head in confusion, still panting.

“Where would I get water? Aren’t the pipes turned off?”

Billy turned to face him, brows now climbing up to his hairline.

“You didn’t bring any—? What the fuck were they thinking, sending you here? Jesus, just—”

And then he walked off, clomping down the stairs and muttering angrily to himself while Steve shut his eyes against a wave of dizziness.

“Sit the fuck down before you fall over.”

Billy was there when Steve opened his eyes again, blinking blearily up at him from where he was propped against the wall.

One rough hand reached out to grasp Steve’s shoulder, muscling him down the wall until his ass hit the dusty floor.

“I said, sit.”

Billy crouched in front of him, jeans stretched to capacity around the flex of his thick thighs. Not that Steve noticed that.

He held out a large canteen in one gloved hand, so aggressive with it that the metal rim clicked against Steve’s teeth.

“Drink this.”

Steve didn’t move to take the canteen, instead tipping his head back to let some cool water trickle into his mouth from Billy’s hand.

Billy made a small, soft sound when Steve licked a drop from his lips, almost inaudible. Almost.

Steve felt better already, head clearing just a little to find Billy watching him closely.

“Is this your water?”

Billy’s eyes slid away even as he nudged the canteen against Steve’s lips once again.

“Yeah, so, what? I don’t have cooties, asshole.”

Steve had pulled his gloves off and dropped them to the ground, so when his hand wrapped around Billy’s hard forearm, he could feel the slick, hot slide of his skin against Steve’s. He met his eyes, face sincere. He hadn’t expected anyone to help him like this, and he was truly grateful for it.

“No, just, thank you.”

Billy got to his feet so fast he nearly fell over, capping the canteen and tossing it to the floor beside Steve. He wouldn’t look at him anymore, picking his hammer back up to sling it over his shoulder while he considered the ceiling.

“Didn’t do it for you. Your dad looks like the type to sue and I’m not looking for that kind of trouble.”

His hands were twisting on the handle, tightening when Steve stood up and started going back to work. Billy’s eyes cut to him, jaw a hard line.

“Take a break, princess. Wouldn’t want to upset your delicate constitution. Sit your ass back down until I tell you to get up.”

Steve’s ass hit the floor so fast it hurt at the sound of Billy’s command.

His words were mocking, but there was something in his tone that made Steve’s spine want to melt. Made him want all kinds of dangerous things that he shouldn’t even think about.

Billy grunted as he started to tear into the ceiling and Steve’s cock twitched in his pants and Steve knocked his head back against the wall.

Shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who’s gonna crack first? I’m taking bets.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Billy worked hard, showing no signs of tiring even as Steve was seriously flagging by the time lunch was called.
> 
> He followed Billy down the stairs, almost tripping when Billy spun around halfway down, face forbidding.
> 
> “You bring your lunch?”
> 
> Heat prickled at Steve’s neck, embarrassed by his own incompetence. No, he hadn’t brought a lunch. Had not even thought about what he would need beyond the dread of coming here in the first place.
> 
> God, he must look like the worst kind of idiot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still hooked on this AU. 
> 
> If only I could put this climbing word count toward my next book 😭

Billy worked hard, showing no signs of tiring even as Steve was seriously flagging by the time lunch was called.

He followed Billy down the stairs, almost tripping when Billy spun around halfway down, face forbidding.

“You bring your lunch?”

Heat prickled at Steve’s neck, embarrassed by his own incompetence. No, he hadn’t brought a lunch. Had not even thought about what he would need beyond the dread of coming here in the first place.

God, he must look like the worst kind of idiot.

Billy chewed his lip as Steve remained silent, smacking his water canteen into Steve’s stomach and knocking some of the air out of him abruptly.

“Stay here.”

Then he clomped down the rest of the stairs and disappeared around the corner.

It didn’t occur to Steve not to follow orders. He didn’t even question it, remaining frozen on the middle of the stairs clutching the canteen until Billy returned a minute later.

He held a stained and rumpled brown paper bag in one hand and an apple in the other. He looked angry as he stomped back up the stairs, stuffing the paper bag into the crook of Steve’s arm without meeting his eye.

Steve started after him when Billy went back down the stairs, coming up short when Billy suddenly spun to face him, eyes flashing a warning.

“Don’t fucking follow me. I’m gonna get enough shit just from having to work with you.”

Steve watched him leave without another backward glance, still holding Billy’s lunch bag and water canteen.

He waited a minute before venturing out of the farmhouse, zeroing in on Billy almost instantly, where he sat on a pile of wood, knees splayed wide, and laughed at something one of his companions was saying.

The crew sat in little groups, tearing into their lunch and complaining about the job or telling raunchy stories.

Sweat dripped down Steve’s spine as he stood in place, reminded of nothing so much as the war zone of his high school cafeteria.

Only, this time, Steve was anything but King.

He was tired, and sore, and fucking confused by everything Billy was and did and said and Steve just wanted to go home.

Instead, he slunk around the corner of the house to sit up against the wall, watching Billy out of the corner of his eye as he opened the paper bag.

Inside it was a sandwich, slightly flattened. Simple bologna between two slices of white bread with mayonnaise.

Steve nibbled at it while he watched Billy take nearly twenty minutes to eat his apple, snagging the water canteen of one of his companions to toss it back and drain it by half, giving a sharp laugh when the man protested.

Steve sipped from Billy’s water canteen, puzzling over his motivations.

He didn’t seem the type to extend charity for the sake of it, out of the goodness of his heart.

So, what did he want from Steve?

Money was the obvious answer, even though Steve was strapped for cash at the moment, he still had resources and a trust fund locked up until he was 21.

That had to be it. Steve didn’t have anything else that Billy might want.

Steve climbed out of his dad’s BMW the next day armed with a full water canteen and shiny new lunch pail, and some cash tucked in his back pocket.

His mom hadn’t even questioned why Steve wanted twenty dollars, just handed it to him absently while she read her latest magazine, shiny cover promising the secret to thinner thighs in three weeks.

He wore a tee shirt this time, still designer but as plain as his mother could stand to purchase, and a sturdy pair of Levi’s that he actually liked the fit of better than his more expensive jeans.

Billy stood over a table with Hop, pointing at a diagram Hop had spread out on the table and gesticulating. Steve approached slowly and quietly, offering a smile to one of the crew who just looked at him like Steve was a talking duck.

Hop looked up when Steve drew near, eyeing him with a put-upon sigh.

“Christ. I was hoping you had been a hallucination from all the heat. You’re with Hargrove again, he knows what to do.”

Billy glared at Hop’s back as he walked away before his eyes snapped to Steve.

“We gotta pick up the pace today. No more fucking around.”

Steve wasn’t aware that there had been any fucking around previously. He felt like he would have noticed.

He followed Billy to the house, watching the way his shoulders twitched and hands fisted when some of the crew saw them walking together and snickered to each other.

Steve waited until Billy got their equipment upstairs before speaking.

“I’m damaging your reputation, aren’t I? With the guys?”

Billy scoffed, kicking out a large piece of drywall with a display of raw power that made Steve want to bare his throat like an animal.

“What reputation? It’s a job, not a fucking homecoming dance.”

Hurt pricked at Steve as he tugged on his ill-fitting gloves and lifted a sledgehammer.

“Well, you certainly don’t want to be seen with me.”

Billy got down on his knees to use one end of his hammer to pry up the wooden molding from around a doorway, talking through his teeth.

“I don’t owe you shit, princess. You come here looking the way you do, you can’t get pissy if a guy doesn’t wanna be associated.”

Steve smoothed a gloved hand over his new tee shirt, leaving a grimy smudge behind.

“What do you mean, about the way I look? I have work clothes, now.”

Billy didn’t answer for a while, focused on tearing out the molding as high as he could reach before he turned to throw it on the pile, meeting Steve’s eyes for half a second before his gaze darted away.

“Doesn’t matter if you dress up like one of us, we can still see those pearls around your neck, princess.”

Steve flushed and shrugged, unable to deny his privilege. Billy watched Steve blink defeatedly at him before continuing haltingly, wiping his mouth off on his shoulder as if to muffle the words, even as his voice dropped down so low Steve had to strain to hear it.

“And there’s, uh, certain rumors, about what a guy like me might be doing with a guy like you. And I’m not interested in those getting spread. So when we’re not working, you go your way, and I’ll go mine.”

The sledgehammer was heavy in his hands, dragging Steve’s arms down the same way the corners of his mouth dragged down in a puzzled frown.

“A guy like me? You mean, rich?”

Billy laughed, hard, with a little hysterical edge to it that matched the light in his eyes. He looked like a man standing at the open door of a plane without a parachute.

“No. I mean a guy who’s, y’know. Soft, pretty,” he licked his lips, meeting Steve’s eyes as he whispered the last like it was a dirty word, “sweet.”

“Oh.”

Humiliation washed over Steve, because he couldn’t deny that he was all of those things, to varying degrees.

Soft, mostly. Muscles sore and stiff from just one day on the job, unable to lift half the things Billy did without a thought. Stomach flat but undefined, limbs thin, hands only just beginning to blister.

Pretty, well. He had been told so, by simpering high school girls and envious, teasing friends. He looked like his mother, and she was one of those women who just always looked like she had stepped out of a magazine. It wasn’t Steve’s fault he looked the way he did.

Sweet was a surprise. He hadn’t been especially sweet to Billy yesterday.

In fact, if anyone was sweet here, it would be the guy who gave up his water and his lunch for nothing in exchange.

Which reminded him—

“Here.”

Steve dropped his hammer and pulled off one of his gloves to fish in his pocket for the twenty, holding it out to Billy, who eyed it like Steve had just pulled out on of his internal organs instead.

“The fuck are you doing?”

Steve shook the money insistently, shuffling half a step closer.

“For your lunch, yesterday. I wanted to pay you back.”

Something in Billy’s face slammed closed, leaving Steve’s stomach swooping with the ominous feeling that he had missed a step somewhere along the way.

“Don’t worry your empty little head about it, pretty boy.”

He turned away but Steve rushed forward to slap the money into his gloved palm, holding strong when Billy speared him with a sneer.

“Take it, I owe you one.”

Billy jerked his hand out of Steve’s grasp, letting the money flutter to the floor.

“I don’t want your money, dipshit. I made extra lunch and you looked so fucking pathetic I just decided to make a charitable donation so I wouldn’t have to listen to you whine for the rest of the day.”

He ground the twenty under his boot heel as he walked away, moving to another room to punch his sledgehammer through the wall with a roar, tearing down drywall with a constant stream of cursing that had an edge to it Steve hadn’t heard before.

The familiar, dropping sensation of having fucked up made Steve’s steps heavy as he picked up the mangled money.

Billy had brought his lunch upstairs with him this time, bag more full and less crushed than it had been yesterday. His canteen was leaning up against the wall and Steve noticed that he had also brought a plastic bottle of water this time.

He ruthlessly stomped down on the idea that it might have been intended for him.

Ridiculous, to even wonder if Billy might think of Steve after they went home for the day. He probably didn’t even remember his name.

Steve shoved the twenty down into Billy’s lunch bag before silently going back to work, finding a stepladder in the corner to allow him to finish Billy’s work in removing the molding.

It was a good thing that it didn’t matter if Steve gouged holes in the wall, because he was freaking terrible at this.

He watched from a distance again as Billy sat with the same group of men for lunch, tearing into his sandwich with a wolfish grin, waggling his eyebrows as he made the shape of a curvy woman with his hands and mimed fucking up into her, sandwich stuffed into a bulge in his cheek that Steve wanted to press his fingers against, for whatever reason.

Wanted to feel his flesh stretched tight, skate his fingers over to Billy’s lips, now wet and shiny from his water canteen. Steve wondered idly if they were as soft as they looked before stopping that train of thought so quickly that it crashed.

Absolutely not.

Steve was not going to let the part of himself that quietly wondered about boys the same way he loudly and publicly wondered about girls break free.

He needed to keep that shit locked up tight, especially here.

Billy dumped out the rest of his lunch, grabbing for his rolling apple with a curse that carried all the way to where Steve was sitting in the shadows.

The twenty fluttered out, Billy’s eyebrows pinching as he picked it up off of the ground. One of his lunch companions made a joking grab for it and Billy shoved him away hard, laughing as he fell off of the woodpile onto his ass.

Billy tucked the money into his jeans pocket, eyes scanning the area around him as Steve pressed further back into the shadows.

Billy didn’t see him, but Steve saw something he hadn’t noticed before.

There, on the woodpile beside Billy’s thigh, next to his apple and crumpled brown bag.

Billy had made an extra sandwich.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We see you, Billy. Already trying to take care of your adorable Disaster Bottom.
> 
> Who is in deeper trouble here, Billy or Steve?


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Over the course of the week, Billy didn’t bring extra food again. Steve knew this because he habitually sat in the shady corner best placed to watch Billy eat his lunch. Which was only slightly pathetic.
> 
> He just couldn’t shake the conviction that the extra sandwich had been meant for Steve.
> 
> His mind wouldn’t let go of all the possibilities of what that could mean.
> 
> What Billy had been saying, with two pieces of wonder bread and a slice of bologna.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think about this AU a lot. When I should be doing my work. I blame sweaty Billy in a tank top.

Over the course of the week, Billy didn’t bring extra food again. Steve knew this because he habitually sat in the shady corner best placed to watch Billy eat his lunch. Which was only slightly pathetic.

He just couldn’t shake the conviction that the extra sandwich had been meant for Steve.

His mind wouldn’t let go of all the possibilities of what that could mean.

What Billy had been saying, with two pieces of wonder bread and a slice of bologna.

Why it had felt like a bouquet of roses.

Why Billy’s eyes spent half of his lunch break everyday searching the site for something that might have been Steve.

Why the day Billy finally spotted him, Billy had frozen with his sandwich halfway to his mouth, gaze locked on Steve until one of his friends had nudged his shoulder with a harsh laugh.

Why it felt like something had been ripped away when Billy didn’t look at him again for the rest of their break.

But.

Billy looked at him while they were working. Eyes always sharp on Steve’s hands as he fumbled with unfamiliar tools. Eyes stumbling away from Steve’s face when Steve would suddenly turn and catch Billy watching him.

Neither said anything about it, but.

Billy looked at Steve, and Steve looked back.

Steve liked to watch Billy move, to map his straining muscles with his gaze, his eyes traveling paths across Billy’s body that made his hands shake with envy. Watching Billy gave Steve the same feeling he had once experienced when his mother took him to an art gallery.

The sculptures had been so beautiful that Steve had felt smaller, somehow. It had felt like the artist had reached inside of Steve and pulled out the parts of himself that he didn’t like to look at too closely. Had held them tightly and shown them in a new, beautiful light, in the curves and angles of the sculpture.

His mother had fussed at Steve for embarrassing her when tears had sprung to his eyes in front of her friends. She had never brought him back with her, quelling his requests with an icy, dismissive glance.

Steve still thought about those sculptures.

Watching Billy felt like that. And like other things. Baser, dirtier things that Steve really didn’t want to come up at work. At this job in particular, full of snorting, spitting macho men who talked like they’d quite like to run down someone like Steve in their trucks.

But Billy wasn’t like that.

Well, he was. And he wasn’t.

Billy was crass and gross and brimming with coarse manners and cocky machismo. But he wasn’t cruel. And he had surprisingly thoughtful opinions on things, when he chose to express them.

Because, it turns out, Billy was smart.

Really smart.

It was something of a surprise to Steve to discover this, muscles aching and covered in drywall dust as Billy showed him how to use a crowbar, talking around the lit cigarette clamped between his teeth.

“Alright, princess, now watch carefully. Wouldn’t want you to break a nail.”

He slid the angled hook of the prybar under a rotten plank of wood before levering it sharply, lifting the plank with a satisfying crack and a deep grunt that went straight to Steve’s balls.

He held out the tool to Steve with expectant eyebrows, wrenching Steve’s attention away from the drop of sweat tracing around the horrible skull tattoo on Billy’s arm.

“Now you try. Remember what I told you about checking your surroundings first.”

Another surprise had been how much Billy had to say about safety on the job. He was always stepping in to adjust Steve’s grip or snatch the wrong tool away before he hurt himself.

It made Steve feel warm in places that had long grown cold in his big, empty house.

But not as warm as the burning flush on his face when he tried to pry up a board and just slid the bar across it with a screech.

Billy shook his head with a sigh, stepping up to Steve with a shockingly patient voice.

“Doesn’t work that way. You need to center your fulcrum between the effort and the load. See, here,” he wrapped gloved hands over Steve’s, the damp heat of his body pressed close from shoulder to wrist, “you’re the effort, right? All that muscle you got there, pretty boy. The plank is the load, it provides resistance. The hook on your bar is the fulcrum. It’s a simple first class lever, pretty hard to mess up. You just—”

He hooked the crowbar under another plank and muscled Steve’s hands into pushing down until the plank popped up far more easily than Steve had imagined it would.

He gave Billy a surprised, happy smile, and Billy just blinked at him for a moment, swallowing hard before he abruptly let go of Steve’s hands and took a large step back.

“Yeah, you’ve got it. Get all those planks up and then put them on the pile. We’ve wasted enough time, here.”

Steve stumbled a little under his armload of planks, carefully avoiding the rusty nails as he watched Billy yank busted pipes out of a half-destroyed wall.

“How’d you know all that?”

Billy’s deltoids stood out in sharp relief as he wrestled with the pipes, teeth gritted and voice snapping with irritation.

“What?”

Steve dusted his hands off on his pants after dropping his load. His blisters were getting blisters underneath his gloves and he tugged one off with a wince to poke at them.

“All that science stuff, like the falcrum and lever and stuff.”

Billy didn’t look at him as he answered, face pinched down at the pipes he was ripping out like they had personally offended him.

“It’s just simple physics. Real basic shit. Anyone who ever read a textbook knows that shit. And it’s a fulcrum, brainiac.”

Steve had never thought of the word simple and the word physics as two things that should go together.

Steve had also never successfully read a textbook.

He had kind of assumed they weren’t meant for reading, with all of that tiny print and too-big words and impossible to understand language.

But Billy read textbooks, apparently.

Because Billy was smart.

It made Steve smile as he pulled his glove back on, flexing the stiff suede into place.

“You like it.”

Billy finally looked at him, throwing a chunk of piping onto the pile with a snarl.

“What the fuck are you talking about, now?”

Steve picked up the crowbar to start working on the next row of planks, making awkward little huffing noises that were far less impressive than Billy’s grunting.

“The science-y parts of this job. You like it. The like, physics-y stuff.”

Billy had leaned back into the hole with the pipes, but Steve could see his shoulders go tense as he paused in his orderly destruction.

“Yeah. So, what? Turns out I’m more than just dumb muscle sometimes. You calling me a nerd, asswipe?”

His words were sharp but there was something in his tone that was soft, vulnerable like an animal showing its belly. It made Steve want to touch him, gently, which would be, just. A terrible idea.

“No. I just think it’s cool. You’re, like, really smart, Billy. That’s rad.”

Billy was turned away from him, damp hair curling over his neck, face obscured. So Steve might have missed his blush entirely if it weren’t for the tips of his slightly prominent ears peeking out of his curls, glowing red.

Billy shrugged, ripping another pipe out and throwing it onto the pile beforewiping his mouth off on his dusty arm and then spitting on the floorboards.

“Not smart enough to get out of doing grunt work. Not smart enough to avoid pretty boy chatterboxes when I’ve got shit that needs to get done on a schedule.”

It wasn’t said harshly. Billy had no compunctions about telling Steve to shut up when he wanted him to shut up.

So, coming from Billy, it was more of a gentle hint.

Steve took the hint, falling silent as they worked side by side for the rest of the afternoon.

He would occasionally forget himself and start humming or muttering like he did when he was alone in his house, but Billy didn’t complain.

In fact, Steve caught him smiling to himself, just a soft little thing, when he overheard Steve mutter the word “fulcrum” as he levered up his last plank in the row.

It was just a tiny hint of a smile, but it was genuine, and it hit Steve like a ton of bricks.

Oh, shit.

He knew this feeling.

This was Nancy Wheeler junior year, sending him in a tailspin to get and keep her attention. Sending him to crash and burn, failing his classes when he couldn’t drag himself out of bed after she cheated on him and declared that it was over between them.

This was Steve’s heart proving stronger than his head. Stronger than his libido. Leading him, once again, down the wrong, thorny path.

Fuck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Looks like Steve’s in trouble.
> 
> Wonder what else Billy has to teach him?
> 
> No one better call me out on the super simple physics for babies stuff I’m writing here. I read an entire three paragraphs for that.
> 
> Billy’s smarter than I am in this fic.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It wasn’t more than a minute before the roar of an engine turned his head and he scrambled to get out of the way while Billy’s big stupid muscle car tore down the road towards him.
> 
> To his surprise, rather than throwing up a middle finger, Billy slowed to a crawl to drive alongside him.
> 
> The passenger window was rolled down, but Billy never took his eyes off the road.
> 
> “Get in.”
> 
> Steve stopped, and the car stopped beside him, engine idling with a loud purr. 
> 
> “Thanks, man, but you really don’t have to—”
> 
> “Shut up and get in the car, pretty boy.”
> 
> Steve got in the car.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This might be my last fic update for a while, I’m really down the wire on this next deadline. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy these idiots in love!

Steve’s mom was supposed to pick him up the second Thursday that he was working at the site. His dad was gone again and that had been the plan when she dropped him off in the morning.

But five o’clock rolled around and she didn’t show up. Then five thirty and the site was practically deserted.

Steve tried not to bring up buried memories of being forgotten at school, and basketball games, and friends’ houses when he was a kid. When his mom had opened a bottle of wine and ’let the time get away’ from her.

Billy and Hop were still arguing over some plans off to the side while Steve waited on the curb with his empty lunch pail between his knees, hair lank with sweat and clothes smudged with dirt.

He watched Hop’s Jeep pull away in a cloud of dust before the sound of heavy work boots approaching turned his head the other direction.

Billy stood there with an unlit cigarette hanging out of his mouth. Steve tried not to follow the motion of his hand in his front pocket as he dug for his lighter.

“Hasn’t your chauffeur usually picked you up by now, Harrington?”

Steve stood with a sigh, lifting his shirt to wipe at his face.

“It’s just my mom, you prick. Looks like she forgot about me. Again. Guess I’m walking to the nearest pay phone to call a cab.”

He dropped his shirt to catch Billy staring at him, cigarette barely clinging to his open mouth.

Billy hastily looked away, fumbling his lighter as he shifted on his feet.

“Nearest pay phone’s gotta be a couple miles away from this shithole.”

He scrunched up his forehead when he took a drag on his cigarette, pinching it tightly between his fingers. Steve tried not to think about Billy’s fingers.

“Yeah, I figured. Can you point me in the right direction?”

Billy laughed down at the ground, low and dry with barely a hint of humor in it as he ashed his cigarette.

“Sure, yeah. I’ll just send princess Bambi down the road right as it’s getting dark. Maybe if you’re lucky some truck driver will pick you up, huh? Save you some cab fare. Be a shame if you got murdered, though.”

Steve wasn’t going to ask for a ride. He wasn’t. Billy had already done enough for him, pausing what he was doing all day everyday to help Steve figure out even the most basic stuff. Checking to make sure Steve took breaks and drank his water and didn’t hurt himself.

Today, when Steve had opened his lunch pail, there had been a cookie placed carefully on top that Steve hadn’t packed. When he had looked out across the site, he had seen Billy munching on a cookie just like it, even as he carefully kept his eyes away from Steve’s hiding place.

So, Steve wasn’t going to ask for more, when he was already getting better than he deserved.

He gave a deep sigh and took off down the abandoned road, letting his shoulders fall when he heard Billy walk away toward his car.

There was a circle K down the road in a few miles. Steve could make it there on his own. He ignored the scream of his tired feet as he trudged along.

It wasn’t more than a minute before the roar of an engine turned his head and he scrambled to get out of the way while Billy’s big stupid muscle car tore down the road towards him.

To his surprise, rather than throwing up a middle finger, Billy slowed to a crawl to drive alongside him.

The passenger window was rolled down, but Billy never took his eyes off the road.

“Get in.”

Steve stopped, and the car stopped beside him, engine idling with a loud purr.

“Thanks, man, but you really don’t have to—”

“Shut up and get in the car, pretty boy.”

Steve got in the car.

The interior was surprisingly immaculate, despite their dirty work clothes. Steve carefully set his lunch pail between his feet as Billy took off again.

He still didn’t look at Steve, fingers tapping restlessly at the steering wheel.

“I’m supposed to meet up with a couple of the guys down at Brannigan’s. Not gonna change my plans for you.”

Steve nodded, letting his head hang out of the window a little just to feel the breeze on his hair.

“No, of course not. I can call a ride from there, and—”

Billy interrupted him with a rude noise pushed out between his lips, eyes finally flicking over to Steve’s face.

“Don’t be stupid. I’ll just bring you along and take you home after. Unless you’re too good to hang out with a couple of blue collar working stiffs like me, country club.”

He said it like it didn’t matter, but Steve could see the way his shoulders tensed, climbing up a little as his hands flexed on the steering wheel. Steve leaned back in his seat to look at Billy with an open, honest face.

“I’m not too good for you, Billy.”

That made Billy laugh, for some reason. The same dry, humorless chuckle he had given at the site with a sharpened edge of hysteria to it, like Steve had said something completely ridiculous. It made Steve’s cheeks burn as he shuffled his feet, nearly overturning his lunch pail.

That reminded him.

“Hey, man. Thanks, for the cookie.”

Billy glanced at him and then away so fast that Steve nearly missed the light flush to his cheeks, running across the bridge of his freckled nose.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about, Harrington.”

And then he turned on some blaring, screaming music that Steve had never heard before and there was no more room for talking until they pulled into the crowded parking lot outside of the strip mall. Brannigan’s pub was the largest part of the building, but it also boasted a candle store and massage parlor.

It was a local bar Steve’s dad had once referred to as a ’hole in the wall’.

Steve nearly swallowed his tongue as Billy twisted in his seat beside him, stripping off his dirty tank top before he grabbed a hand towel from the backseat and. Fucking.

Rubbed it all over himself.

The spicy scent of cologne wafted over, Billy must have sprayed the towel with it before he left home that morning.

Steve concentrated on the entrance exam he had failed to stay soft in his jeans. He only half-succeeded.

Oh, god.

Billy had bent himself in half to grab a small duffel bag out of the backseat, his warm, naked ribs rubbing against Steve’s upper arm.

There was no longer anything remotely soft in Steve’s jeans.

Billy sat back with the duffle in his lap and rummage through it for a short sleeved, button down shirt. He threw it on, leaving it open while he fished out a plain, rumpled tee shirt.

He held it out to Steve with expectant eyebrows.

“Here. Put this on.”

Steve accepted it with numb hands, all of his blood rushing south at the sight of Billy fussing with his curls in the rear view mirror.

Billy noticed his hesitation and snagged the towel again, tossing it in Steve’s face.

“Oh, yeah. You can use this, too.”

The deep, dark scent of Billy was mixed with his cologne and it took everything Steve had not to take a shuddering, audible breath of the towel covering his face before he pulled it away.

He rubbed it under his arms and across the back of his neck, feeling awkward and ungainly as he stripped off his sweat-soaked shirt and put on Billy’s clean one.

It was freshly laundered, still smelled of crisp, fresh detergent. Steve sighed and smiled with relief at feeling just a little bit clean and fresh.

“Thank you, Billy. That was really nice of you.”

He beamed over at Billy and Billy froze with the duffel half-zipped, eyes stuck to Steve’s face as that flush came back in full force.

He threw the duffel in the back with a gruff sound, scowling down at his hands while he buttoned up just the bottom half of his shirt and tucked it into his jeans.

“Don’t fucking mention it. I mean that, Harrington. Not a word.”

Steve ran his fingers through his hair to try to get it in order. At least he had natural body and volume, so it wasn’t a total disaster.

Billy climbed out to the car and slammed the door, not bothering to wait for Steve as he stomped into the bar. Steve recognized the guys playing pool in the corner as some of the ones Billy usually sat with at lunch. All big, macho dudes in their twenties who looked at Steve like he was a joke.

Steve hesitated before going to the bar to order a beer, not even remotely surprised when they didn’t bother to card him despite his baby face.

He was surprised, however, when he turned around to find that Billy had commandeered a small table off in the corner. His friends all had their backs turned to him as they played pool and spilled their beers laughing at something.

Steve sidled up to the table, barely glancing at Billy, almost afraid of his reaction.

“Hey, Billy. Do you mind if I sit? With you?”

He winced in anticipation of Billy telling him to fuck off or go wait in the car or something, sticking to his usual refusal to be seen with Steve.

Instead, Billy sucked his teeth as he kicked out the chair right next to him, slumped in his own seat with liquid grace that gave Steve the odd, incredibly stupid urge to climb in his lap.

“Knock yourself out, buttercup.”

Steve sat in the chair and took a sip from his beer, wrinkling his nose at the bitter taste and then squawking when it was swiped right out of his hand.

Billy threw it back, throat working as he swallowed down half the bottle in one go, finally dropping it with a satisfied sigh and a belch before grinning right in Steve’s face.

Steve gave him his best glare, shaking the hair out of his face to let his eyes burn.

“Hey, man! That’s my drink!”

Billy looked at the beer in his hand with exaggerated surprise.

“Wow, really? Sure tastes like it’s mine, pretty boy.”

And then he.

Fucking.

Traced his filthy wet tongue, slow and sloppy around the rim of the bottle, warm blue eyes on Steve’s burning face.

“Mmm. Nothing better.”

Steve rolled his eyes, giving a put-upon sigh in an attempt to control his suspiciously heavy breathing as his stupid brain played the image of Billy licking his bottle over and over and over and over and—

“Whatever. I’ll just go get a new one.”

He pushed up from the table only to sit back down abruptly as Billy shoved down hard on his shoulder.

“No need, princess. I already got you a drink.”

He slid a glass dripping with condensation and filled with dark liquid in front of Steve, ice clinking musically. Steve gave it a suspicious look, not making a move to pick it up while Billy gulped down his beer and watched him over the rim.

“What the fuck is this, a rum and Coke?”

Billy flashed white teeth in a there-and-gone smile before nudging the glass even closer to Steve.

“Close. It’s just a soda. You’re too young to drink, Harrington.”

A potent combination of anger and humiliation burned through Steve’s chest like acid as he hissed at Billy, ignoring the glass.

“Bullshit! You’re not even twenty-one yet either, asshole!”

Billy shifted, flexing his muscles in a way that had to be deliberate, as if he was showing off how much more developed he was than Steve. As if Steve wasn’t already keenly, painfully aware.

Billy clinked the soda glass with his beer bottle, voice low enough to stay just between them as he looked at something past Steve’s shoulder.

“Just take the soda. This isn’t the place for you to get sloppy, okay? There’s a lot of rough guys who come here to unwind. It’s not the place for you.”

That feeling of not belonging was really beginning to wear on Steve. He was tired of feeling like a circus act while he was working, like the other guys might stop to point and stare any second.

He bared his teeth at Billy, leaning in to growl in his face, ignoring the strong scent of cologne and heavy male exertion that wafted off of him like animal musk.

“I work the same job you do, Billy. I know I come from a different background but I’m just another one of the guys. Stop treating me like I’m some fucking girl!”

There was a light in Billy’s eyes that clicked on sometimes when Steve did or said something that made Billy want to put him in his place. It always made Steve’s heart pound faster, idiotic muscle that it was.

The light was shining brightly when Billy met Steve’s eyes, thumb tapping idly against his beer bottle as he sprawled in the chair beside Steve, taking up all the available space. Taking up all the available air, until Steve was left panting.

His voice remained low, steely for all that it was quiet, nearly drowned out by the buzz and roar of laughing men all around them.

“No, see, that’s where you’re wrong, Harrington. Because I haven’t been treating you like a chick at all. Wanna know how I know that?”

When Steve was little, he liked to rub a balloon on his head, to build up a static charge until it stuck to the ends of his hair, scalp buzzing just a little.

The air between them felt like that now. Like Steve’s skin was buzzing inside and out as he matched Billy’s volume, jutting his chin.

“Enlighten me.”

Billy’s eyes slid all around the space surrounding them before he leaned in, lecherous smile on display like he was telling a dirty joke.

The hand holding his beer bumped up against Steve’s wrist, the rough skin of his knuckles burning hot in contrast with the cool bottle.

“If I was treating you like a chick, pretty boy, I’d have gotten you into the backseat of my Camaro by now. Gotten my big, dirty hands up your shirt and your panties on the floorboards. I’d have thrown those legs over my shoulders and licked you open, until you were dripping wet for me. Gotten you begging for it. And then I’d have fucked you until you screamed.”

Steve’s breath hitched as Billy leaned in just far enough that his lips brushed against Steve’s ear, warm and wet and impossibly soft in contrast with the bristle of his mustache.

“So that’s how you know, I’m not treating you like a chick.”

He sat back like he hadn’t just set Steve on fire, slouching in his seat as he threw back his beer, bored eyes scanning the room.

Steve could have driven nails with his dick.

He grabbed the soda just to have something to occupy his hands before they reached out to touch Billy. Which would be stupid, and a disaster, and very on-brand for Steve.

Billy was broadcasting casual ennui, but the knee closest to Steve’s chair was jiggling up and down at a frantic pace, knuckles bone-white around his bottle of beer.

Steve might be stupid, and weak, and a bit of a klutz, but he wasn’t a coward.

He let his legs spread, both making room in his jeans for his aching dick and allowing his thigh to bump up against Billy’s vibrating knee.

Steve did it once, then twice, then held it there with steady pressure until Billy gave him a sharp glance, knee going still.

Steve let himself sway just a little closer as he lifted his glass to his lips, speaking quietly over the rim.

“Guess I should be paying closer attention, then.”

Billy’s eyes widened, jaw going slack as Steve maintained eye contact while he licked a bead of condensation off of his thumb, slow and deliberate. Then he took a swig of his soda and flashed a smile.

“Thanks for the drink, Hargrove. Didn’t even have to flash my tits for it. You’re a real gentleman.”

Billy snarled before he got up and stalked over to the pool table, shoving one of his friends away as he stole his pool cue.

Steve spent the rest of the time watching Billy wipe the floor with his competition and trying not to be turned on by his belching, chest-puffing peacocking.

He failed.

Billy didn’t speak to him again until they pulled up to Steve’s house, when he reached back into the duffel bag to grab Steve’s dirty work shirt and ball it up to throw at him.

“We’re here, dipshit. What do you want, your majesty, me to open your door for you? Get the fuck out of my car.”

Steve bit his lip, unable to blame the beer he didn’t have for jumping off the cliff he had been toeing in his mind all night, eyes on Billy’s face.

“I was just, wondering.”

Billy sighed so deeply it was a wonder he didn’t deflate like a balloon.

“Well, I’m off the clock, so you can babble about whatever it is tomorrow okay? I wanna go home and take a shower already. I fucking reek.”

He did, but, so did Steve, and.

To be honest.

Steve, kind of. Liked?

The way Billy smelled?

Which was weird and gross, but. Achingly, undeniably true. He had been taking deep inhales the entire car ride like some kind of pervert, trying to memorize the overwhelmingly masculine scent of him for later, when Steve was alone in his bed.

He had waited too long to answer and Billy was watching him with impatient eyebrows and, oh, god, Steve was an idiot. He fumbled with the door handle.

“Oh, okay. Um, bye.”

Billy stopped his fumbling with a hand on his elbow.

“Wait. Shit. What is it? Just tell me already, I can’t take the Bambi eyes.”

Steve was stupid.

And clumsy.

And kind of a failure at the ripe old age of eighteen, but.

He wasn’t a coward.

So, he just, said it. Point blank, meeting Billy’s eyes.

“I was wondering about your backseat.”

Billy was lighting a cigarette, cheeks hollowing out as he sucked it down, eyes reflecting the flame.

“What about it?”

There was a wall in his voice, solid and keeping them each on their own side. A wall, and a warning. It was a good thing Billy had spent the last two weeks teaching Steve how to tear down walls. He steadied himself with a grip on the door handle, just in case he had misread the situation, but he didn’t look away from Billy’s smoke screened face.

“How would you get me in it? If I was a girl, like you said. Hypothetically.”

Billy choked on his cigarette around a harsh inhale, dropping it in his lap and jumping and cursing as he raced to pick it up before it burned through his jeans. He hung his hand out the window, blowing the smoke out into the night as he avoided Steve’s eyes, speaking almost too quietly to hear.

“Fuck, Harrington. You don’t want the answer to that question. Tell you what, it’s been a long day. Why don’t you go inside and we’ll forget you ever asked, alright?”

Steve wasn’t speaking quietly, that edge of steel he was usually so good at cushioning, at hiding away creeping into his voice.

“No. I want the answer, Billy.”

Billy surveyed him solemnly over his cigarette, a smoky haze rising between them in the cab of the Camaro. “Yeah?”

When he spoke, it was hushed, intimate. Just between them.

“You done this shit before, princess? Some quarterback get you on your knees in the locker room or something?”

There was no judgement in Billy’s face, just cautious, searching honesty.

“No. I haven’t, but I—I want. Billy, I want.”

He couldn’t articulate more than that, more than the wanting that thrummed like a pulse through his whole body whenever he thought about Billy.

Billy seemed to get the message, nodding as he sucked down the rest of his cigarette, brow furrowed. He pointed the burning stub at Steve as he finished.

“First rule is you keep your mouth shut. You don’t tell anybody. Not your best friend, not your fucking pet turtle, no one. You got that? Answer me.”

There was steel in Billy’s voice, too, with no attempt at dulling the edge of it. It made Steve want ridiculous things. Like Billy’s hand around his wrists and his teeth against his neck. Things he could never, ever ask for. So he just answered simply and quietly.

“Yes.”

Billy flicked the smoking butt out of the car and rolled up the window without ever looking away from Steve.

“Good. Second rule is you do what I say when I say it, just like on the job. Nobody tells me what to do, especially when the pants come down. Understand?”

His hand came up to touch Steve right in the middle of the chest with a single fingertip and Steve had to check that he had really dropped his cigarette because he could feel that tiny point of contact burning through his clothes. He had to clear his throat to answer, barely holding back an embarrassing, pleading whine.

“Yes.”

Billy seemed to hear the edge of that whine, gaze falling to Steve’s lips with a strangled groan before he tore himself away and shifted into gear.

“Alright, fuck. Fuck, this is a bad idea. Fuck.”

And then he was peeling out of Steve’s neighborhood, speedometer climbing as he aimed them toward the lake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omg is Billy taking Steve to makeout point!? What are they gonna do???
> 
> My next book comes out in a week!!! 😱 Check it out if you’ve ever wanted a H*llmark style holiday romance but with gay smut.
> 
> Follow me for more updates or DM me to join my private Smut Cave (18+) group for sneak peeks and insider info on both my fan works and original works.
> 
> Tumblr: http://acthomasbooks.tumblr.com , http://heck-in-a-handbasket.tumblr.com/
> 
> Twitter: https://twitter.com/acthomas_books


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Where are we going?”
> 
> Billy didn’t look at him, knuckles tight on the steering wheel as he sped through town. “Shut up. Just, shut up. I’m trying to think.”
> 
> Steve took a deep, steadying breath before reaching over to lay a hand gently, tentatively on Billy’s thigh. The muscle jumped beneath his palm as Billy cursed under his breath and drove a little faster, pedal to the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m back! I met my deadline and I’m ready to jump back into making fan works.
> 
> So, here, have some smut with feelings!

“Where are we going?”

Billy didn’t look at him, knuckles tight on the steering wheel as he sped through town. “Shut up. Just, shut up. I’m trying to think.”

Steve took a deep, steadying breath before reaching over to lay a hand gently, tentatively on Billy’s thigh. The muscle jumped beneath his palm as Billy cursed under his breath and drove a little faster, pedal to the floor.

He screeched to a stop behind a deserted copse of trees a good distance off the main road from the quarry. Deep in the depths of Makeout Point.

Steve had taken Nancy out here, once. Nearly gotten his face slapped for the audacity.

He certainly didn’t feel like slapping Billy.

Billy looked like he was about ten seconds from flinging open his car door and making a run for it. He was breathing hard, gripping the steering wheel as if it was the only thing tethering him to the earth. He didn’t even glance at Steve as he ground out his words, low and slow.

“You understand what this is? What you’re starting, here, Harrington?”

And.

Okay, so.

There were a lot of things Steve didn’t understand. Like Shakespeare and physics and multiplying by sevens, but, this?

Steve understood this somewhere deep in his bones, somewhere that resonated with Billy’s name like an echo from inside. He tightened his fingers around Billy’s thigh until his work-sore skin burned as he nodded. “I understand.”

Billy swallowed hard before he turned to look at Steve, eyes dark with warning and desire in equal measure. “You remember the rules?”

Steve nodded again, but that wasn’t enough for Billy.

Billy’s hand struck out like a snake to grasp Steve’s chin, just shy of too hard. Steve’s dick jumped in his jeans at the show of strength. “Yeah? Tell me.”

He didn’t relinquish his grip even as Steve spoke, so his lips brushed against the thick callouses on Billy’s fingers, sending a shiver down his spine. “Nobody can know about us. And. And I do what you say.”

Steve wasn’t prepared for the slow, gentle caress as Billy released his jaw to cup his cheek. Billy turned in his seat to fully face Steve, pupils dilating as he stared him down.

“That’s right. If you can handle that, Harrington, then we can have a real good time. That what you want, pretty boy? You want me to show you a good time?”

Steve didn’t nod so much as nuzzle into Billy’s palm, rasping soft and low.

“Yes. Please.”

Billy’s tongue peeked out to wet his lips, and Steve couldn’t help but think of all the times he’d looked over to find Billy concentrating on something, tongue poking out of his mouth. Billy grazed his thumb over Steve’s chin to nudge at the seam of his lips, voice rasping low. “Good boy. I like those pretty manners. Open up for me.”

It didn’t occur to Steve to do anything else, jaw dropping open immediately.

Billy eased the rough pad of his thumb inside, rubbing over Steve’s teeth before pressing down on his tongue.

He tasted like sweat and beer and Billy, and Steve moaned like a whore, cheeks burning as he tried to cut the sound off in his throat, mouth clamping shut around Billy’s thumb.

Billy had turned off the engine, headlights gone dark. Nothing but moonlight reflected off his glowing, satisfied eyes as he chuckled low. “None of that, baby. I wanna hear you. Don’t hold back, it’s just you and me.”

Steve nodded, eyes wide on Billy’s face as he gave a small, tentative suck, letting his tongue curve around the bulk of Billy in his mouth. No one had ever put any part of themselves inside any part of Steve before. There was something satisfying about it that he desperately wanted to explore.

Something that touched parts of him he had never really examined before. The parts he was scared to hold up to the light.

Billy wasn’t scared. He gave a harsh exhale, a soundless grunt, and pushed his thumb in all the way to the final knuckle, hand nestled against Steve’s chin. “Do it again.”

Steve let his eyes flutter shut as he sucked a little harder, squirming in his seat with a little moan.

“Holy shit. You’re so good for me.”

The words hit Steve like a drug, eyes flying open to find Billy staring at him, his own jaw dropped as his tongue lolled out excitedly. He pulled his thumb out, grinning as Steve chased it with a whine.

Billy caught his chin and leaned in for a single, quick kiss that left Steve’s lips tingling and his lungs gasping. “Get in the back.”

He cursed, laughing as Steve scrambled awkwardly between the seats, dodging long limbs as they went flying in every direction.

Billy waited until Steve landed in a clumsy twist on the backseat before he calmly opened his door, got out of the car, and reentered at the back.

He kicked the duffle out of the way as he settled beside Steve, taking in his chaotic sprawl with a single raised brow. “Oh, bambi. You do like to make things hard for yourself, don’t you? Come here.”

He spread his legs, slumping down in his seat to make room as he slapped his thigh expectantly.

Steve climbed on top with a muttered apology as he accidentally dug a knee into Billy’s side.

He sat back on Billy’s lap, thick, muscled thighs firm as the heat of him seeped though both of their jeans. Steve hesitated for a second before he let his hands rest on Billy’s shoulders. He had never sat in someone’s lap like this before. It made him feel strange.

Warm.

Taken care of, as Billy, with no hesitation, curled his arms around Steve, sliding one hand into his back pocket as the other cupped around the nape of his neck to urge him downward.

Steve swooped down too eagerly and bumped their noses and Billy’s grip tightened a little to guide him into place.

Kissing was familiar to Steve, he had been swapping spit since middle school, but.

Like everything else with Billy, this was different.

Usually Steve took charge, having to be the one to initiate everything, to push forward.

Not this time.

This time, Steve was swept away by Billy’s firm, confident motions as he coaxed Steve’s lips apart to slide inside.

Steve sucked on Billy’s tongue with a tiny, helpless sound, chasing that sensation of being filled, and Billy groaned as the atmosphere shifted.

An edge of urgency roughened his hands as they both curved under Steve’s ass with a squeeze. Steve rocked down, gasping as he felt Billy’s cock, hot and rigid against his thigh.

Billy tugged on his lower lip with his teeth and Steve ground down in his lap, pressing his own aching cock against the firm plane of Billy’s stomach.

Steve’s heart jumped into his throat as Billy released his grip to frantically unbuckle Steve’s belt, popping his top button before he slid his hands back around.

The shocked squeak Steve let out as Billy’s rough fingers shoved inside the back of his briefs was mercifully muffled by Billy’s mouth.

Those thick fingers grasped one cheek hard, spreading him open before the other hand slid confidently between, long middle finger skirting lightly across his hole.

Steve’s stomach flipped like a roller coaster going far too fast and he sat up, pushing against Billy’s chest when Billy tried to chase him.

Billy’s hands eased away to settle on his hips outside of Steve’s loosened jeans as he focused patiently on Steve’s red, panting face.

“Billy, I’m not ready, for—I’ve never, with a guy, so.”

He was relieved when Billy didn’t appear even the slightest bit angry, stomach churning from the possibility of being considered a tease.

Billy just removed his hands from Steve’s hips to run them through his curls with a deep sigh. “Shit, okay. Okay, you’re not ready. That’s fine, I can back off. I gotta ask, though, what did you think we were gonna be doing, here? Playing poker?”

Steve wanted to sink into the floor. Billy asked it with a teasing smile, like he was trying to put Steve at ease, but Steve just felt young and stupid and out of place. He shifted on Billy’s lap so he wasn’t pressing directly on his hard-on anymore. “I dunno. I guess I just thought, like, second base?”

He winced at his thin, unsure voice, but Billy lit up, straightening a bit in his seat as his hands fell to squeeze Steve’s thighs. “Second base? You gonna let me feel up those sweet little tits, princess?”

It shouldn’t make Steve dripping wet, for Billy to talk to him like that, rough-sweet words in that soft voice, but.

The evidence stated otherwise as a wet spot swiftly spread over the head of Steve’s dick inside his briefs. He gave a stilted little shrug, barely able to meet Billy’s eye. “I mean, I’m a guy, so. There’s nothing there, really, but. You can, if you want to, Billy.”

Billy scoffed lightly, laughing with delight as he lifted the hem of Steve’s shirt. “If I want to? You got no idea, do you? The things I wanna do to you, goddamn. Get this shit off.”

Billy’s breath hitched as Steve struggled out of the shirt, elbows knocking the ceiling when he tossed it away. Billy didn’t care how clumsy Steve was, he was too busy staring hungrily at his exposed chest. “Perfect. Look at these pretty little cherry drops. Fuck yeah.”

“Billy, oh!”

Because Billy didn’t kiss gently at Steve’s nipples the way Steve tended to start with a girl.

No.

Billy went in teeth first, catching and holding Steve’s nipple only to flick it mercilessly with his tongue.

And, the thing is. Steve had thought that he wasn’t very sensitive, there. That maybe boys just didn’t feel it the same way girls did, but.

He certainly felt it when Billy sucked him into his mouth with a deep, hungry sound, roughly plucking at the other side while Steve writhed and moaned.

Billy pulled off to roll Steve’s wet, swollen nipple between his thumb and forefinger, smug grin on his face. “Yeah? You like that, sweetheart? Bet I could make you cream your pants like this.”

Steve frantically shook his head, nearly braining himself on the window when Billy swooped down to bite and lick and suck at the other side, every touch going straight to Steve’s trapped, neglected cock.

His hands landed on Billy’s shoulders, squeezing once before he let go with a pained hiss.

Billy popped off of his chest immediately, concern written plain across his face. “Did I hurt you?”

Steve looked away miserably, curling his hands into loose fists at his side, frustrated with his inability to reciprocate.

“No, I’m sorry. I just want to touch you so bad, but my hands—”

He cut himself off as Billy reared back to grab him by both wrists, bringing Steve’s sore hands up to his face. He winced and hissed at the sight of the blisters and sores across Steve’s palm. “Shit, baby. We gotta get you some better fitting gloves. I know this shit hurts. No wonder you don’t wanna go any farther tonight.”

It hurt, and it didn’t, and it was the best-worst thing when Billy gently kissed the skin of Steve’s palm, brow furrowed like it really bothered him that Steve was in pain. Steve had never had someone do that before. His parents weren’t exactly the skinned-knee kissing types.

Steve rushed to talk over the voice in his head whispering nonsense about wanting Billy to hold him close and kiss him better, in all the places he was hurting deep inside. “Yeah, I mean, I can’t even jerk off, lately. It sucks, man.”

To Steve’s consternation, Billy widened his eyes and clicked his tongue sympathetically even as his face showed nothing but dangerous, glinting glee. “Poor little thing. You wake up hard, pretty boy? Can’t do anything about it? Just roll over and rub against the sheets until you’re all worked up and crying with frustration?”

He carefully laid Steve’s hands palms-up on the headrest behind him. Then he ran his hands all over Steve’s torso, carding through his chest hair with a thoughtful hum. “You been coming into work like that? Balls full to bursting while you try not to get hard every time you look at me?”

Steve couldn’t help rocking down a little to press his cock against Billy’s firm, reassuring warmth, nodding helplessly as every word Billy said was mortifyingly true. “Yes.”

Billy gritted his teeth against a moan, skimming his hands just to where the curve of Steve’s ass swept into his back, fingertips digging into the first hint of softness. “Oh fuck, that’s hot. Bet you can’t even finger yourself anymore, huh, baby?”

Steve burned at the words, flushing hot all the way down his chest. He had only tried that a few times, alone in the house in his shower, forehead pressed against the tile as he bit his lip and worked himself open, finally letting himself picture strong hands and hard flesh. Letting himself imagine being filled in ways he couldn’t manage on his own.

That was a secret, there was no way—

No way Billy knew about that.

Right?

Steve shook his head, gaze dropping to Billy’s chest, tan skin exposed by his open shirt. He tensed all over, worried about revealing things about himself that he had always kept carefully hidden. “Oh, geez, I don’t—I don’t do that.”

Billy smoothed a lock of hair off Steve’s forehead, speaking so quietly it was almost to himself. “Fuck. You’re even pretty when you lie.”

Steve jerked his head up, thighs so tense he started to shake a little as he rushed to deny it before Billy realized that Steve wanted things he wasn’t supposed to. That Steve was desperate for those things. “I’m not—”

Billy rubbed some of the tension from his legs with a soft shushing sound before he curled his fingers behind Steve’s ear, thumb tucked beneath his chin. “Hey, relax. It’s okay. Look at me.”

His eyes were soft and patient and so, so blue that Steve couldn’t have looked away if he’d tried. “I like it. Got myself off last night thinking about you sinking those soft, pretty fingers inside your tight little hole, squirming and whining all alone on the bed. Needy for some cock.”

Steve was ready to squirm and whine in the backseat of this Camaro. He couldn’t stop imagining it, Billy working himself over while he thought of Steve. The words can tumbling out before he had a chance to stop them. “I thought of you, the last time I—the last time I could do. That.”

Billy threw his head back with a groan, thigh muscles cording beneath Steve’s weight as he arched against the seat. “Holy fuck, pretty boy. You’re killing me.”

He scrunched up his brow as he shook his head like he was trying to shake away something Steve couldn’t see. Then he took a deep breath and glided his hands back up to Steve’s chest. “But, okay. Just second base. I can do that for you, princess. Treat you right.”

He cupped Steve’s chest like he was a girl as he teased his nipple lightly, a hint of growl in his voice. “You ever let somebody play with your tits like this, before?”

He asked like he already knew the answer, but Steve stumbled one out anyway, trying not to twitch his hips like a slut every time Billy touched him. “No. No one’s ever tried.”

Billy sucked on his lower lip as he nodded, considering Steve’s chest like he was formulating a battle plan. “I’d say that’s a damn shame, but I’d be lying if I said it didn’t make me hard as fuck to show you what this sweet little body can do.”

Steve loved that, even as he burned, red creeping down past Billy’s hands. “I’m not a virgin.”

Billy gave a knowing smirk, that taunting lilt entering his voice that never failed to make Steve’s dick hard on the job. “No, no, of course not. Lemme guess, you got some neighborhood girl on her back under the covers? Gave it to her all sweet and slow? Left you feeling just a little unsatisfied? Maybe even a little guilty about it because you ought to be grateful?”

It shouldn’t have been possible, for Billy to know all that. Like he was looking deep inside Steve, exposing things to the light that had always been kept in the dark. Smirking as he turned them this way and that to catch every angle.

Steve’s face crumpled with shame as he shrunk in a bit, curling away from Billy. “Yeah.”

Billy wasn’t phased. He followed after to kiss him, once. And then again. And then again until Steve relaxed against him and he drew away to search his face. “It’s alright. We’ve all been there. It’s not gonna be like that with me. I’m not gonna leave you wanting like that. I promise.”

It was stupid, for Steve’s eyes to tear up at that, for his heart to rumble with hidden hunger in his chest.

Then again, Steve was always doing stupid things.

Billy returned his attention to his chest like he hadn’t just turned Steve inside out, dropping down to kiss his skin so sweetly Steve inhaled sharply against the threat of tears.

Billy alternated between gentle kisses and pinching with the rough pads of his fingers until every touch sent a jolt of electricity straight to Steve’s cock. Until he was leaking and moaning and rocking his hips in a delirious haze, the world narrowed down to the backseat of Billy’s car.

Billy hummed encouragingly as he nipped at the swollen red tip of Steve’s nipples, massaging the surrounding flesh with firm hands. “Hmm, you getting a little worked up, baby? You need something from me?”

Steve rocked his hips harder, chasing the near-painful friction of wet cotton in his jeans. “Please. Billy, please. Touch me.”

Billy licked soothingly at Steve’s overworked skin. “Love those manners, sweetheart. But, I thought this was what you wanted. Second base, just like you said. I am touching you, see?”

He gripped Steve’s chest possessively, grinning up at him with his slick, red mouth and Steve was suddenly close to the edge, cock throbbing and balls drawn up tight. Steve spread his knees open wider around Billy, grinding down on his lap with a needy moan, no longer trying to stifle his sounds. “Please touch my dick, Billy. Please, I need it. Need you, just you, please.”

Billy muffled a growl against Steve’s chest before he surged up to kiss him, teeth and tongue out in full force like he was trying to devour Steve whole. “Fuck, you don’t know what that does to me, begging so pretty like that. So good for me.”

Steve whined and ground down in his lap insistently and Billy gentled his kisses, deepening them until Steve was pulled beneath the surface, gasping.

He was prepared to beg some more when Billy took mercy on him, trailing one hand down to rest on his thigh, drawing little teasing circles on the denim just shy of Steve’s cock. “Alright, no more teasing. You’ve been so sweet for me. So perfect, beautiful. I’ll give you what you need, if you give me one thing in return.”

Steve was ready to throw his trepidation to the wind and bend over right here, right now, if Billy asked it of him.

Billy didn’t ask it of him.

Instead, he kept kissing Steve, deep and slow as he cupped his chest with one hand and let the other inch slowly toward where he needed it most. “I’ll give you anything you want, baby, but you gotta say my name, okay?”

Steve couldn’t nod, could barely focus on kissing back, just panting into Billy’s mouth. “Yes, Billy.”

Billy groaned like Steve was the one grabbing for his dick, muscles tensing up as his erection kicked against Steve’s ass. “Good, just like that. Now, come for me, princess.”

He tugged on Steve’s sore nipple just as he palmed the head of his cock through his jeans and Steve was coming hard, curling forward with a shout that he barely remembered to carve Billy’s name into.

Billy rubbed him through it with a firm palm as Steve soaked through his jeans, twitching and whining when it became too much.

Billy eased off to lean back in his seat and take in what a panting, sweaty mess he had made of Steve. “Fuck, you’re perfect.”

It was dangerous, how much Steve liked to hear those words in Billy’s voice. Felt like the first hit of something incredibly addictive. Something he would avoid if he was smart.

Of course, Steve wasn’t smart.

He fumbled at Billy’s zipper for a moment, looking into his eyes as Billy gently pulled his hands away. “Woah. You don’t need to do anything for me. Don’t wanna hurt those soft little hands.”

Billy kissed them again, and it hurt even more, even deeper than before and Steve rushed out a tangle of words to cover it up. “Since I can’t use my hands, I could. If you—if you wanted, I could. Use my mouth? On you?”

Billy went completely still beneath him, Steve hadn’t even realized how relaxed he was until he tensed up all over, eyes narrowed on Steve’s face. “Bullshit, you’ve sucked cock before.”

Steve was still floating high from the hardest orgasm he’d had in weeks, barely able to speak coherently as Billy stared him down. “Oh, well, no. I haven’t, but. I would. For you.”

Billy pulled his jaw open, thumb on his lower lip, just breaching inside to graze his teeth with a harsh breath, eyes rapt on Steve’s mouth. “You would, huh? Fuck. Give me a second.”

He took his hand away to clench hard at his own hair, eyes squeezed tightly shut for three long seconds. Then he took a deep breath and met Steve’s eyes with a firm expression on his face. “Okay. Goddamn. No, we’re not doing that. Not like this, not just because of your hands. When you suck my cock for the first time it’s gonna be because I’ve got you on your knees drooling for it. Not just because you feel fucking obligated, or whatever.”

Steve brushed his knuckles against Billy’s cheek, reveling in the scratch of stubble against his skin. “I don’t feel obligated, I just want to get you off.”

Billy kissed him again, quick and breathless, like he couldn’t help it. “Yeah? God, you’re so good. Alright, lay down on the seat for me.”

Steve half-fell off of Billy’s lap onto the wide bench seat, the summer-warm leather smooth against his skin. He blinked up at Billy as nerves laced with an edge of dark, delicious desire shot through him. “I’m not—I’ve never—”

Billy trapped Steve’s legs against the back of the seat as he got up on his knees to yank his shirt from his pants and unbutton it the rest of the way. His skin was slick with sweat and Steve thought wildly about tasting it. “Relax, kitten. Not gonna do anything you don’t want me to. I think you’ll like this. Now lay back for me like a good boy.”

It was like magic, the way those words in that commanding tone went right to Steve’s spent dick, leaving him twitching in his own mess.

He didn’t know what to do with his sore hands, so he left them curled helplessly beside his head.

Billy paused at that, breathing heavily while he stared at Steve spread out for him before he licked his lips and yanked his own belt open. Steve craned his neck up to watch Billy unzip and pull himself out of his pants, stroking rough over his long, hard cock.

He was thicker than Steve, rosy pink and wet at the tip and Steve’s mouth watered at the mere thought of sucking him down the way he had his thumb. Something Steve had barely considered before.

Billy unzipped Steve’s pants as well and tugged them down to his knees before he tossed Steve’s legs over one shoulder, pressed together tightly.

He traced the wet, transparent cotton of Steve’s plain briefs reverently, moaning under his breath. “Fuck, baby. You wear these all the time?”

It was embarrassing to admit, but Steve didn’t have any underwear beyond the tighty whities his mom bought in a four pack at the department store. He nodded silently, face crimson.

Billy peeled the soaked fabric back to reveal Steve’s soft cock, just starting to plump up again against the damp skin of his stomach, dark hair streaked with cum. He shook his head, sweaty curls bouncing softly. “Goddamn. I’m not gonna be able to look at you without thinking about getting these little white panties down beneath your ass so I can eat you out until you cry.”

Steve squirmed in shocked arousal, cock fully hard by the time Billy was done talking. He had heard jokes about that, but didn’t think it was something people really did.

Nothing about Billy suggested that he was joking.

Steve made a pitchy, embarrassing sound as Billy yanked his briefs up to tangle around his thighs, wet and clingy.

He dragged a gentle-rough hand through the mess around the base of Steve’s cock and smeared it between his thighs before spitting on the same hand and slicking up his cock, never taking his eyes off of Steve.

Then, he leaned forward, folding Steve nearly in half as he slipped his wet cock between Steve’s thighs.

He was hot, and smooth, and shockingly hard. Steve felt that internal slip again, that slide into something addictive. Something he was going to crave for the rest of his life.

Billy groaned and pressed the side of his face to Steve’s knee as he started to work his hips in quick, tight thrusts, the reddened head of his cock popping through at the end of each one. It was as hypnotic to watch as it was addictive to feel.

He wanted to reach up for Billy, to touch his soft curls or his hard, straining muscles. But he had to keep his hands out of it so he just arched his back and whimpered helplessly.

Billy went even faster at that, focus dropping to Steve’s chest. “That’s right, princess, show off those pretty tits. I bet you’re sore, huh, baby? Gonna drive me crazy tomorrow, knowing every time you move, your shirt’s gonna drag across those sweet pink tits and you’re gonna be reminded of the way I worked you over so fucking good.”

He leaned further down and his cock started to bump against Steve’s as Steve cried out and squirmed, trying fruitlessly to lift his hips into the contact.

Billy wrapped one arm around Steve’s thighs, holding them tightly together against his shoulder as he shoved his free hand into the narrow space between Steve’s stomach and thighs to grip his cock. “I’m getting close. You’re too pretty like this. Too good for me. You wanna come with me, sweetheart?”

Steve nodded frantically, shoving his cock up into Billy’s fist as much as he could. “Yes, please. Please, Billy.”

Billy moaned deep and low, hand speeding up to match his hips. “Perfect. So sweet. God, you’re so tight already and I haven’t even gotten inside you yet. Bet I’m gonna have to stretch you out on my fingers for hours, huh?”

Steve whined, tossing his head against the leather as he braced his feet on the ceiling while Billy pounded his hips so hard against the back of his thighs he almost hoped for bruises to remember it by.

Billy’s tongue wouldn’t stay in his mouth any longer, darting out to lick his lips, peeking out between his teeth as he panted and moaned. “Yeah? Gonna come again for me? Thinking about the way I’m gonna lick you open and stretch you out? The way I’m gonna fill you up so good you can only say my name?”

It almost hurt, when Steve’s second orgasm hit, the sharp spike of pleasure stabbing right through him until he screamed Billy’s name, spurting up his stomach. Billy followed immediately after, catching a fold of Steve’s jeans in his teeth as he grunted and jerked, spilling hot and wet over Steve’s sensitive cock.

He slumped against him with his whole, solid weight for only a moment before sitting back on his heels as he eased Steve’s legs off of his shoulders.

Billy didn’t say a word as he reached down to the duffle for Steve’s discarded work shirt. He used it wipe down Steve’s chest, hissing and wincing sympathetically when Steve whimpered as it passed over his nipples. Then, just as gently, he thoroughly cleaned Steve’s stomach and even his groin, moving his soft cock with considerate fingers.

He sat back to wipe much more roughly at himself while Steve struggled back into his wet briefs and jeans.

His borrowed shirt was crumpled on the floorboards and he shrugged into it while Billy put himself to rights, shoulders tense beneath the silence between them.

Billy finally looked at him with a flash of blue and Steve surged up to kiss him, grasping his collar with sore hands as he nearly crawled back in his lap.

Billy finally broke away with a breathless laugh, eyes sparkling. “Alright, that’s enough, pretty boy. It’s late and I gotta get you home safe, we’ve got work in the morning.”

Steve glanced at the clock, eyebrows shooting up at the time.

Well, at least he knew his parents wouldn’t be waiting up for him. He doubted they knew he wasn’t in his bed already.

Billy played music on the drive back, resting his hand on Steve’s knee when he wasn’t shifting gears. Steve felt like he was floating, like his heart was too light to be tethered to the ground anymore.

Billy pulled up in front of his house and cut the lights.

Steve leaned in for a kiss, stopping halfway when Billy flinched away. He tried for a smile, running his knuckles up Billy’s thigh. “It’s gonna be hard not to kiss you when I see you tomorrow. You always look so good when you’re working. Maybe we could sneak away and—”

Billy grasped his wrist and moved Steve’s hand off his leg, spearing him with a hard stare. “You don’t say shit like that. This stuff doesn’t follow us on the job. It’s not safe. We keep it here, just between us, after hours. Alright?”

Steve nodded, heart crashing back to the ground with a crunch. “Alright.”

Billy looked at him for a long, silent moment before he turned away to roll down his window. “I’ll pick you up at six for work tomorrow. Don’t be late.”

Steve paused with his hand on the door handle, confusion dropping through him like lead. “What? My dad can drive me, that’s okay.”

Billy shook his head, pulling out a pack of Marlboro reds and knocking one out of the pack with the heel of his hand. “It’s not. He’s a dick and he treats you like shit.”

It was true, and it wasn’t. Steve knew he had it better than most. He had a comfortable life, and parents that cared enough about their image in the community to take care of him, even now that he was officially an adult. But they didn’t treat him with respect, or even, care, sometimes. It was gut wrenching to think that Billy had noticed that from even the small interactions he had seen. “How do you—You don’t even know him.”

Billy lit up his cigarette, flicking the lighter closed with a sharp, angry motion. “Nah, but I know a thing or two about shit dads. I’ll be here at six tomorrow,and you better be waiting on the curb, pretty boy. Don’t make me honk for you.”

“Okay, thanks,” Steve peeked up at him through his lashes, warmth suffusing his chest at the unexpected friendly gesture, heart lifting from the ground once more, “Goodnight, Billy.”

Billy considered him for few taut seconds before he wrenched his head away to blow smoke out his open window, muttering into the darkness. “Get the fuck out of my car, already.”

Steve hung his head low, a humiliated flush burning his cheeks as he popped open the door and slunk out of the car, headlights cutting back on behind him.

He had only gotten a few steps away when Billy called out so softly he almost didn’t hear.

“Hey, Steve?”

Steve turned around, stomach dropping at the possibility of Billy changing his mind about the ride because Steve couldn’t keep his big stupid mouth shut and his big stupid feelings to himself.

It was a lifelong problem for him, really. No one ever wanted the things he had to say or the love he had to give. Not once, in his entire life. Why would Billy be any different?

Billy fiddled with his cigarette for a moment, forehead scrunched in concentration before he lifted his head to meet Steve’s eyes, still speaking soft as a lullaby.

“Have a good night, okay?”

There used to be a streetlamp there, at the end of Steve’s driveway. One of those old fashioned gas lamps with heavy black wrought iron decoration. His mom had gotten it removed when she redid the yard in a modern theme.

So it was dark, when Steve smiled, watching Billy’s face go soft in the glow of his headlights and cigarette.

He looked like an angel in sweat soaked cotton, all golden curls, smiling back at Steve with kiss-swollen lips. An angel that made Steve wish for impossible things. An angel he just wanted to keep by his side.

Steve nodded, wondering if Billy could see the way he pressed a work-sore hand against his aching chest, trying to keep his heart in place.

“Okay, Billy. You too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How do we think they’re going to handle things when they get to work in the morning?
> 
> Follow me for additional fanworks, headcanons, excerpts, and updates!
> 
> https://twitter.com/HeckinaH
> 
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